My Beautiful
by BohemianTwinkle
Summary: Soon there wouldn't be an empty dressing room waiting for them, with a bottle of Absinthe and melting candle on the dresser..


**Author's note: **A very inarticulate and out of character nini/satine slash, which by the by was written to the most haunting and beautiful song ever written - Sing for Absolution by Muse.... Muse you are my muses! And lyrics from that song are used in the fic.

**Dedication: **Dedicated to two people - Jeremy who is _my beautiful_ and to Norah - I failed to write a Sam, so I wrote this instead.

* * *

_Lips are turning blue  
a kiss that can't renew  
I only dream of you  
my beautiful_  
  
Blue eyes staring at blue eyes, red hair, long and thick, falling across short and silky strands of black. Two sets of pale hands entwining as two bodies merge together to become one. Two pairs of lips joining in an imperfect kiss, a hungry kiss.  
  
A candle makes shadows dance and flicker on the paint peeling walls, hot wax forms clear boiling pools on tables beside glasses of half full Absinthe; the dressing table cluttered with smudged and broken lipsticks, spilt foundations, wasted eyeliner and distilled perfume with one too many cracks in the bottle.  
  
They hold each other so tightly beneath the cheap and weathered sheets; nails digging into skin, lips crushed against sweaty skin, pain and pleasure at the same time. The words they whisper do not last long in the air, the promises they make are not made to be kept, the murmured 'I love you' between joined mouths ends up being forgotten.  
  
'I love you,'   
'I need you,'   
'My beautiful,'   
'My miracle,'  
  
_Tiptoe to your moon  
a starlight in the gloom  
I only dream of you  
and you never knew  
_  
Behind the closed door and out in the hallway, the dancers smile or roll their eyes knowingly as they pass; the Diamond and Legs-in-the-Air are together again, locked in a courtesan's dressing room wrapped up in lust and passion for each other, limbs and lips meshed together taking them into a completely different world.  
  
It is not romantic, no moonlight shines conveniently through the open window and no song is sung as a result of a bunch of idealistic bohemian's plan. Instead the glowing shades of red and gold from the wings of the spinning windmill floods over them turning their skin red and fingers gold, burning down on them as they hide and love beneath a single sheet.  
  
Every kiss is one holding all the meanings and all the words they can't say, every touch is a promise of tomorrow night. The can can dancers eye Nini in the corridors, in the smoke filled dressing rooms. Perhaps they're jealous or perhaps they're delighting in her crime.  
  
'You're fucking Satine,'   
'Harold won't be happy,'  
  
_Sing for absolution  
I will be singing  
falling from your grace_  
  
Satine always fell asleep first, curled awkwardly beside Nini. She never seemed to fit right in the curve of Nini's arm. But Nini taught herself not to notice it, she would lie awake listening to her lover breathing and thinking, or perhaps trying, to remember the words they whispered to each other before while they were making love.  
  
But those words die soon after they are uttered and all that is left is the feel of Satine's form lying still and asleep beside her. Nini rolls over and rests her lips against Satine's; the warmth assures her that Satine is alive and something real – not a dream, not an illusion. Satine would open her eyes sleepily and smile.  
  
'You woke me up,'   
'I'm sorry, go back to sleep,'  
  
_There's nowhere left to hide  
in no one to confide  
the truth runs deep inside  
and will never die_  
  
Sooner or later, Nini knew, all this would end. Stolen kisses in the hallways, loving glances on the dance floor, words whispered that die in the air, a sleepy red head asleep in her arms. Nothing like this ever lasted forever.  
  
Soon there wouldn't be an empty dressing room waiting for them, with a bottle of Absinthe and melting candle on the dresser, their pale skin wouldn't burn red from the spinning lights of the windmill and instead of lying awkwardly in Nini's arms, Satine would be in the Elephant, with the gentleman that offered her the most diamonds and Nini would be out on the dance floor, dancing away into the world Satine used to take her to.  
  
Sometimes she would confront Satine about the end of their relationship, in a voice trying so hard to sound careless but always crackled with hurt. Satine would cup her face in a long pale hand and smile a false sparkling diamond smile.  
  
'You knew it would end, it was too perfect to last,'   
'It was too perfect to end,'  
  
_Lips are turning blue  
a kiss that can't renew  
I only dream of you  
my beautiful  
_  
Blue eyes would stare at blue eyes, now so estranged. Two sets of pale hands drawing back from each other as two bodies cry out in different voices, in different heartaches. Two pairs of lips frown as they are forever parted from each other's kiss. Nini refuses to cry. Satine doesn't know how.  
  
'I love you,'   
'No you don't'   
'My beautiful,'  
  
_Sing for absolution  
I will be singing  
falling from your grace  
  
I won't remain unrectified  
and our souls won't be absolved_  
  
Satine died in the arms of someone else, she died in love with someone else and Nini watched like a stranger in the crowd, remembering the many nights hidden behind dressing room doors with her beautiful.


End file.
